


Spangles

by Potrix



Series: Holding On [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Can be read as a stand alone, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Gen, Hopeful Ending, Hurt Tony, M/M, Major Character Injury, Not Iron Man 3 Compliant, POV Bucky Barnes, POV Steve Rogers, Protective Steve, Serious Injuries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 11:54:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3133520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/pseuds/Potrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One moment, the robot at Tony’s feet is little more than a heap of dented metal, and in the next, Tony’s eyes grow wide and he gasps, shocked, as its sword-arm snaps up in a futile last-ditch effort at victory, smoothly sinking into and through Tony and the armour alike.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Spangles

**Author's Note:**

> This follows directly from the previous instalment, but all you need to know/remember is that the team got a call to assemble, no one apart from Steve knows about Tony and Bucky’s relationship so far, and Rhodey is present during the fight because he was visiting and hey, having War Machine as backup is pretty useful. 
> 
> Please do also keep in mind that I’m not a medical professional and while I tried to stay as close to reality as possible (Wikipedia is my friend), probably not everything will be entirely accurate. If something is so wrong that you can’t ignore it, feel free to point it out so that I can make the necessary adjustments. 
> 
> Last but not least, there is surprisingly little plot in this (I have no idea what happened, really!), however; this story is the prelude to the next bit in which Tony will be whiney because he’s injured and make a stupid call because he’s hella insecure. About everything. But especially Bucky. Because he’s in love with Bucky. And Bucky with him. 
> 
> (Hush, don’t tell them, they’re idiots and don’t know yet!)

**Spangles**

* * *

Tony lands with a loud clunk, glass and debris crunching under the Iron Man’s heavy boots. “Well, that was surprisingly easy.”

Steve is reluctant to agree, eyes flickering up and down the suspiciously quiet road nervously, trying to seek out any stragglers. “Something isn’t right.”

“Don’t jinx it, Cap,” Tony teases him, rolling his eyes as he steps over one of the downed enemies, grinning and throwing decidedly rude gestures at Clint who’s perched on a roof several houses over and responding in kind. “We won, day saved, everyone’s happy. Now, how about that new Ethiopian place over on-“

It happens incredibly fast.

One moment, the robot at Tony’s feet is little more than a heap of dented metal, and in the next Tony’s eyes grow wide and he gasps, shocked, as its sword-arm snaps up in a futile last-ditch effort at victory, smoothly sinking into and through Tony and the armour alike.

The bullet hits the robot perfectly between its glowing red eyes before the arm is even fully withdrawn, an EMP arrow following a fraction of a second after, yet both too late.

Steve is at Tony’s side in an instant, kicking the twitching robot out of the way as he lowers them both to the ground, gently cradling Tony’s head in his lap so he can unlock the face plate, carelessly throwing it over his shoulder along with his shield.

“Jarvis, status,” he snaps, grabbing Tony’s flailing hand and squeezing hard, needing the contact just as much if not more than Tony. “Now!”

_“First aid functions are compromised, removal of the armour and applying of pressure to the entry wound is recommended,”_ comes the worrisome reply, making Steve curse and press his eyes shut for a moment before he springs into action, swallowing down the lump in his throat and pushing away the panic he can feel creeping in at the back of his mind.

“Armour override code sierra-papa-alpha-November-golf-lima-echo-sierra, Captain Steven Grant Rogers.”

There’s the telltale hiss of releasing joints as plates start to retract, pieces folding in on themselves while Steve yanks away whatever else is in the way until he can finally, after what feels like hours but can’t have been more than seconds, fold his hands over the jagged hole in Tony’s stomach.

Tony groans weakly at that and Steve bends down low, folding himself over Tony protectively, touching their foreheads together.

“To- totally ji- jinxed i- it,” Tony rasps, lips twitching when that startles a slightly hysterical chuckle out of Steve. “Steve-“ he tries to go on but chokes on a cough, blood splattering across his mouth and chin.

“Stop talking. For once in your life, just stop talking,” Steve pleads, sniffling back the moisture he can feel gathering at the corners of his eyes.

Tony doesn’t listen because he’s _Tony_ and he _never_ listens, scared, blown-wide eyes struggling to lock onto Steve’s wet ones. “Bucky,” he says, more clearly than he’s managed anything else before, an almost frightening urgency suddenly to his voice. _“Bucky.”_

And Steve understands, even though he doesn’t want to because no, no, no, _no!_ “You tell him yourself. I’m not doing your emotional dirty work for you, Shellhead.”

The expression Steve receives in response, although contorted by what he imagines must be a not unsubstantial amount of pain, can’t be classified as anything but a patented Tony Stark pout.

Hurried footsteps have Steve glance up, his whole body sagging with relief at the sight of the paramedics jogging toward them, the rest of the team not far behind.

“Behave yourself,” he warns, brushing a trembling hand through Tony’s hair, smearing blood into it and not caring one bit, “I don’t want to hear any complaints from the medical staff this time.”

And then he’s ushered away, watching as Tony is loaded onto a stretcher and carried to a nearby ambulance where’s his joined by a frantic looking Colonel Rhodes, dimly aware of Nat’s hand on his shoulder and Clint talking somewhere close by. None of that properly registers, however, all of Steve’s attention fixed on Bucky where he’s leaning against a nearby car, lips parted slightly and expression dangerously vacant.

“Bucky,” he breathes, rudely shrugging off the people still attempting to reassure and console him, staggering forward on unsteady feet until he can wrap himself around his unresponsive but pliant friend, tucking Bucky’s face into his neck.

It takes a long moment but then Bucky lifts his own arms, hands coming up to clutch at Steve, cling to him, fingers digging into his sides with enough force to bruise and leave marks, however temporary.

“Stevie,” he murmurs brokenly, the words heavy with sorrow and the beginnings of grief, damp eyelashes fluttering across Steve’s skin. “I-“ Bucky tries, cutting himself off with a strangled sob, “Tony. _Tony!_ ”

Steve had to stand by helplessly as his best friend, his brother fell to his icy death, couldn’t do a single thing to safe the first friend he’d made after waking up in this strange new world just now, and he knows it’s nothing, _absolutely nothing_ compared to what it must feel like seeing the person you love go down and being unable to help.

Platitudes are meaningless, empty, would do more harm than good, so Steve turns his head, presses his lip to Bucky’s temple in a silent show of support, the gesture not nearly enough but all he has to offer.

***

The medical team at Stark Tower, mostly former SHIELD doctors now under Tony’s employ after the whole Project Insight mess, whisk Steve away into a private room to draw blood the moment the team steps foot onto the infirmary floor.

The healing factor via transfusion is minimal, but that is still better than nothing.

Bucky is unresponsive once again when Steve joins him and the others in one of the waiting rooms, completely oblivious to Natasha dabbing at a cut on his forehead and Bruce gently trying to coax him into a less rigid and more relaxed position.

Clint and Thor are squished into two of the too small plastic chairs, expressions grim, and Rhodes is pacing surrounded by a distinct aura of _do not approach._

Steve relieves both Bruce and Nat with a weak smile and brief tilt of his head in thanks, finishing the cleaning of Bucky’s wound, free hand cupping the side of Bucky’s face and stroking a soothing thumb over his cheekbone while he whispers quietly; happy anecdotes from their youth, what he read in the newspaper that morning, how he still gets funny glances for calling women ma’am on occasion, whatever comes to mind until Bucky lets out a long, shuddering breath and presses his face into Steve’s chest.

They stay like that, huddled together, even when one of the doctors comes to collect Rhodes, the next of kin listed in Tony’s files, for an update.

No one asks about Bucky’s strong reaction, because they’re too shaken up themselves or trying to give them space Steve can’t tell and doesn’t care right then, staying away and leaving the two of them to their one-sided conversation.

And Steve is not only thankful but also incredibly glad for the privacy, not sure what he could say to them without giving away Tony and Bucky’s so far secret relationship. Not that he thinks anyone would react badly, Steve likes to believe that he knows his friends well enough to be able to judge them fairly in this, but it isn’t his place to tell.

It takes a solid forty minutes for Rhodes and the doctor to reappear, the latter going on to explain Tony’s state after a nod of consent from Rhodes.

“Mr Stark is alive and out of surgery,” she begins and there’s a collective sigh of relief from the entire team. “While the injuries were extensive, he is no longer in critical condition and, barring any unforeseen complications, will be regaining consciousness in the next day or two.

“The worst of the damage was done to his right lung which, given the already reduced volume of the organ due to the Arc Reactor implant, will make a full recovery impossible. At the moment, we estimate a recovery to about sixty, sixty-five percent the capacity of that in a healthy adult male.”

Which isn’t good, by any standards, but more than Steve had honestly hoped for after seeing the size of the initial wound.

“We have inserted a chest tube,” the doctor continues, “and applied an Asherman seal that allows air to escape but not enter the chest. Additional damage was done to Mr Starks ribs, three of which were fractured and needed to be set, as well as the muscle tissue in his lower abdomen. No other vital organs were affected, blood loss was as expected given the circumstances and everything else, scrapes and bruises, can be classified as minor in comparison. In short, Mr Stark was very lucky but will be back with you all soon enough.”

There is a beat of silence while everyone digests the news and then, “Can we see him?”

Bucky’s voice is trembling, the effort it takes out of him to speak at all written across his face clear as day, and the doctor shoots him a small, apologetic smile.

“Family only, I’m afraid. Although,” her eyes flicker to Steve’s face, considering, “I suppose an exception could be made for you as team leader, Captain Rogers. If that is all right with Colonel Rhodes?”

It’s a split second decision but before Rhodes can answer, Steve blurts, “What about his boyfriend?”

So much for his earlier vow of secrecy, Steve thinks wryly, but he can feel Bucky shake with barely suppressed emotion next to himself and he knows him, knows Bucky wasn’t going to ask himself, wasn’t going to impose on or bother anyone no matter how much he needs to make sure that Tony will be all right, to see it with his own eyes.

Natasha is the first to make the connection, exhaling an almost inaudible, “Oh!” of surprise. Bruce follows shortly after, lips curving up into an understanding smile, and then Rhodes’ eyes grow wide and he gestures at Tony’s room, saying, “Yeah, of course.”

Bucky doesn’t move, though, frozen with his gaze lowered shyly, hands clenched so tightly the knuckles of the flesh one are beginning to turn white.

“Hey,” Steve whispers and steps between him and the others, hooking a finger under his chin and tilting up his face. “I’m sorry. I know you didn’t want them to find out just yet but they’re your friends, Buck, they won’t push or prod if it makes you uncomfortable. And you need to be with Tony right now, okay?”

All Bucky manages is a croaky, “Okay.”

Steve gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze and, despite the grimace Bucky pulls at the move, presses a quick, chaste kiss to his forehead before releasing him. “Go.”

“Okay,” Bucky says again, steadier this time, and practically flies across the room to Tony’s door, only stopping to murmur an embarrassed but all the more sincere “Thank you.” to Rhodes who just waves him off with a good-natured roll of his eyes and a clap to the back.

***

Machines.

Tony is surrounded by machines and for a moment, Bucky is back in a different time, another white room filled beeping equipment and metal instruments and a chair and-

Steeling himself, Bucky moves closer to the bed because _Tony._

He’s pale, needles in his arms and a mask over his nose and mouth, his breaths shallow and irregular but visible, he’s breathing, and Bucky nearly collapses into the chair next to him, suddenly exhausted.

“Can I-“ he starts, then has to clear his throat around the forming lump in it. “Can I touch?” he asks the present nurse who smiles sympathetically and nods, going on to rearrange all the cables and IV lines for easier access.

Despite the man’s friendly demeanour, Bucky still waits until he leaves before leaning in close, brushing his mouth over the top of Tony’s head, staying there with his nose buried in Tony’s hair and one of Tony’s hands clasped between his own as he lets the tears fall.

***

Bucky wakes to the sensation of fingers patting uncoordinatedly against his cheek in the middle of the night, disoriented for a second before the previous day’s events come rushing back.

“Tony?” he ventures hopefully, wincing and making his neck protest in pain from surging upright much too fast. “Tony?”

Sure enough, Tony’s eyes are open, a blissful, being-drugged-out-of-his-mind grin on his face as he slurs a simple, “’Lo.” in the time it takes Bucky to push down the oxygen mask enough to mash their mouths together.

Tony hums against Bucky’s mouth for a moment, then pulls back with his brows drawn together in a confused frown. “Your face is wet,” he informs Bucky seriously but nonetheless puckers his lips in expectation of another kiss.

And Bucky indulges him, even as he wipes at his damp eyes and warns, “Don’t ever fucking do that again, you asshole.”

“I want a cheeseburger,” Tony replies because he’s _Tony._

**Author's Note:**

> All right, who caught on as to why this is titled **Spangles**? Anyone? Obvious, right? God, I’m much too amused and pleased with myself right now. 
> 
> If you liked this story, go check out my other [work](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/works) or come say hi on [tumblr](http://potrix-the-queerschlaeger.tumblr.com/).


End file.
